The Life Aquatic
by etcetera-cat
Summary: In which Teva disapproves of pirates in general, and their boats in particular. A Grass is Greener story.


**Disclaimer: ** Not my sandbox, will rake it over smooth when I'm done. Definitely my toys; you can tell by the way they're all bent and beat up.

**Notes:** _This_ is what happens when I fly around the world inflicting myself on people for purposes of fannish glee and end up spending quality RL time with Jaelle. So, y'know: it's all _her_ fault. Again.

**The Life Aquatic**

After this many years, you'd think that I'd be used to this kind of thing happening to us. I mean, not the _precise_ details—because that's where the devils live and I must have the population of at least four of the seven hells trailing after me by now—but a generalised idea, as it were, of incipient ridiculousness when presented with certain scenarios.

And maybe, given Brandyn's near-hysterical vehemence whenever the subject of Evendim comes up, I should have been a bit more alert. Evendim Circuits or courier runs always seemed to be walks in the park for us; it's every _other_ part of Valdemar that sees fit to deluge Alex and myself with all of the bandits, Karsites, Hawkbrothers, magic, _blood_ magic and great big hairy things with teeth available.

That, for the record, would be a large part of the reason that I insisted that our last cross-country courier Circuit was going to be to Evendim, the one part of the entire Kingdom that had yet to ever crap on our heads from a very great height. Incidents with midges and fire leaf notwithstanding.

Yes, I _know._ Last long distance Heraldic effort by yours truly, in a previously quiet area that had never harmed up greatly. Clearly it was all destined to go belly up in a spectacular fashion.

This is about as much explanation as there is ever going to be for the slapstick pirates.

I'm not even sure that I can _attempt_ a sensible explanation.

Needless to say, real pirates would have been an improvement on the slapstick ones we appear to have ended up with. By 'real' pirates I, of course, mean the blood-thirsty bandit kind that specialise in the sacking, burning and pillaging areas of life outside the law.

Which should give you some idea of just how unimpressed I am with today.

"Um."

Alex crosses his arms over his chest and sighs in a theatrical fashion. Theatrical is an entirely apt word to use here.

We both glare at the origin of the 'um'.

What happened—is still happening, in fact—is that, in the course of running dispatches, we stumbled across a lake-side village that appeared to be under attack by pirates.

Very impractically dressed, brightly coloured pirates. Complete with the waving swords and the salty language.

Being good Heraldic types, Alex and I immediately plunged to the rescue and charged into the middle of the generalised melee that was breaking out along what passed for the village's dock. Roughly five seconds after that, I think both of us realised that we were either fighting against the most inept scourge of the (not really) high (not actually) seas, or something was seriously wrong.

This was reinforced simultaneously by one of the slapstick pirates stabbing me with a sword that turned out to be made primarily of paper and glue, and by the appearance of the master of the um currently shuffling his feet in front of us, who shouted: "and, _scene_!"

"Explain," Alex says shortly, hardening his stance up even further. I _am_ impressed. He's actually managing to be nearly as intimidating as the King's Own in a bad temper.

"Um," the sorry specimen in front of us repeats. I focus on his face, more out of a lack of desire to have my eyes burned out by the truly hideous purple and yellow outfit he's bedecked in (there's a hat. With _feathers_) than anything else, and bare my teeth.

Mister Um gulps and shuffles backwards a step. His voice, when he actually manages to get it to form some actual words, carries the cultured overtones that mark out the utter top of the nobility. "We were rehearsing. It was thought prudent that we tried to re-create the scenarios as accurately as possible in order that the actual performances would convey the proper atmosphere."

_:How can the top of the ruling classes be this idiotic?_: Alex asks me.

_:When you purify anything the slag always boils to the top,_: I inform him. _:I'm just thankful that you turned out to be stuck to the bottom of the pan when I Chose you.:_

_:Thanks, Teva.:_ Alex's Mindvoice is dry enough to desiccate the lake behind us.

"And did you see fit to inform any of the villagers of this acting workshop?" Alex asks in a deceptively level tone.

"Certain that he didn't!" the village headman, who is standing on the opposite side of Alex to me, shouts. The villagers arrayed behind us mutter agreements.

Um sniffs. "There was no need. Our artistic efforts are not for the common people, so it is hardly any concern of _theirs_ what—"

"Their concern started around about the point that you crashed your boat into their pier and began chasing each other around the village, cursing at the top of your voices."

Um gapes at Alex. Clearly he is not used to being interrupted. Alex completely ignores him in favour of taking stock of the slightly battered looking village, an expression of resignation on his face.

"Now, first off, what we need to do is—"

"It's a ship! And you interrupted me!"

Alex fixes his attention back on Um. "And you just did the same to me," he says pleasantly. "Now, firstly, what we need to do is assess the damage caused by your little game and then apportion reparations to all those involved." At the loud murmur of speculation that runs through the villagers, Alex raises the volume of his voice. "And, _of course_, we're all going to be good natured and _honest_ because I'm sure all of us are capable of telling the difference between fresh damage and the privy wall that fell down five years ago."

I note with amusement that some of the villagers are sporting distinctly chagrined expressions.

"Teva and I will help, naturally."

I swing my head around and gape at my Chosen. _:And what, precisely, am I supposed to be doing?_:

"You, my lord, will be coming with us." Alex points none too subtly at Um and then jerks his thumb in the direction of the main square.

Um, his mouth still flapping open and closed and his eyes bugging out, follows Alex and the village head man.

_:I think his eyes are going to fall out.:_

I flick my tail from side to side and watch as Alex continues without a backwards glance.

_:And then his Daddy's eyes are going to fall out when you present him with the bill,_: I try. No response.

_:And _then_ the court will be up in arms because you made all the Evendim nobles eyeless!_:

I stamp a hoof in irritation as Alex fails to acknowledge me, and then find myself forced to glare around at the remains of the dispersing crowd, whose expressions clearly state that they are judging me and judging me _hard._

_:My life,_: I complain. _:Is unnecessarily complex. Any minute now there's going to be bees. Or midges. Or bees _and_ midges.:_ I stamp my way down to the pier and out along it as far as I dare. Up close, Um's boat looks stupid and it smells.

_:This boat is all mouldy. I'm going to catch some hideous water borne fungal infection and _die_ all because my Chosen is too dim to retire at a sensible age.:_

_:I believe it's a ship, Teva.:_

_:Who cares what it's called? It's all black and shiny and smells like a latrine in the vicinity of a whole load of high fibre diets! Gods only know what kind of twisted super-fungus it's infested with.: _I glare at the boat in question until I'm almost cross-eyed. It does look truly noxious, and no amount of jolly buccaneer window dressing by Um and associates is going to pretty it up any.

_:The black stuff will be tar,_: Alex informs me. _:It _stops_ things rotting, so there's unlikely to be any fungus.:_

_:I hate you so much.:_

A yellow sensation, like apples. _:I love you too.:_

_:And why shouldn't you?_: I ask tartly. _:I am _clearly_ the most wonderful—what in the name of Astera's pet fish?_: I break off wrangling with my Chosen to gape at the description defying insult to the shipwright's craft that is bearing down on the pier.

There is paint. And banners. And sails made out of what well may be festival tents. And a figurehead carved by someone who has a _really_ skewed view of what the female of the species generally look like.

_:What is it?_:

I'm surprised, actually, that the sheer weight of the...things...haven't dragged the whole boat down to the lake bed without further thought.

_:What? Teva!_:

The boat appears to be entirely populated by more of Um's ilk, all merrily waving paper weapons and taking a stab at real, honest-to-gods cursing as only the nobility can. There's a lot of avasting and timber shivering.

_:Teva?_:

I become aware that not only is Alex squawking inside my head, and has been for several long moments, but that the second stupid boat is about to crash into the pier.

Which I am standing at the end of.

_:Argh!_:

_:Teva!_:

There's crashing—a _lot_ of crashing—and noise and splintering wood and generalised chaos, which I shriek and flail my way through up until the point that there's suddenly nothing for me to stand on, when I fall into the water. Which is cold. Cold, cold, cold.

_:Argh!_:

_:Teva!_:

A part of me is aware that Alex is running towards me, swearing loudly, but rather more of me is concerned with getting my head above water. Unfortunately, what I do is a creditable attempt at getting my head above _boat_.

For the record? Wood is really hard.

I sink back down towards the lake bed, blinking the stars from my eyes. It's a long few moment before I manage to gather together enough wits to realise that walking myself out from under the boat and _then_ trying to surface would probably be an intelligent thing to do. The water's already about seventeen different kinds of murky, so I don't exactly have a decent view as I squint around. This means that I resort to a round of 'eeny-meeny' to pick my direction.

Thankfully, I make the correct decision; within thirty paces, the water had shallowed enough that I can stick my head above it without braining myself on something nautical. Which is just as well, because I've managed to well and truly ring my own bell, and I'm not entirely sure that I can recite my own name at the moment. I struggle my way up the muddy bank, until I'm standing next to a beached fishing sloop and then squelch in a circle until I can glare at the _two_ stupid boats snarled up in the remains of the pier.

"Where is my Companion?"

Even with ears filled with weed, I can hear Alex bellowing. A moment later I realise that the white figure striding around at the back of the second boat is my Chosen, and that he looks like he's about two heartbeats away from banging some heads together. From the way that the second load of slapstick pirates are scrambling around and vacating the boat, I'd say that they've come to a similar conclusion.

"Where! Is! She?"

_:Alex! Alexander!_: Either my Mindspeech has been well and truly addled by the blow to my head, or my Chosen is too angry to Hear me (and either are valid possibilities), but I am completely and utterly ignored.

_:Dammit.:_ Grumbling loudly I stamp along the bank, enjoying the hollow booming sounds that start when the earth gives way to weather-beaten planking beneath my hooves. The terrified yelps and the way that a path through the growing crowd of gawking villagers and bedraggled slapstick pirates is clearing almost supernaturally fast for me is also an indication.

There's a rickety gang plank, which is even more impressively noisy when I stamp up it, and the main deck of the boat is also satisfactorily resonant. There are three pirates still on the boat, one of whom Alex has crowded up against the rail on the opposite side of the boat.

"Where. Is. My. Companion!" My Chosen, I have noticed over the years, has definitely gotten both more crotchety and _louder_ over the years.

The two free pirates—one of whom actually turns out to be a wench when I get a good look at everything her costume _isn't_ concealing—take one look at me in all my silt-and-weed covered, glowering glory and scramble past me to the gang plank.

"Monster!" The polka-dot pirate that Alex has cornered takes an even faster route off the ship: they pitch themselves right over the side and splash down into the murky water.

Alex wheels around and stares at me. "I thought you were dead!"

_:Hey!_: I protest loudly. _:Shout at the pirates, not at me.:_

"I was worried," Alex says, flinging his arms up in the air. "I just saw my Companion get run down by a _ship_."

I stamp one hoof firmly. _:It'll take more than one stupid boat to finish me off.:_

"I cannot elucidate all the ways in which you exasperate and infuriate me." Alex steps forwards until he can lean on my shoulder and wrap both arms around my neck.

_:I love you too.:_

"And why shouldn't you?" Alex mumbles into my soggy mane. "I am clearly the most wonderful—"

_:Uh, Alex.:_ I widen my stance slightly as the deck rocks beneath us. _:I think you should look.:_

"What?"

I heave out my breath in a resigned sigh. _:You know how this is our last Circuit and it was supposed to be simple and easy and absolutely not containing any disasters?_:

"Yes," Alex says levelly. "So, what?"

_:So the shore is getting smaller.:_

"The _what_?" Alex turns to face the same direction as me. The view over the misshapen prow of the boat is that of the shoreline. Which is rapidly receding.

We both stare at it for a while.

_:Well, at least there won't be any great big hairy things with teeth in the middle of the lake.:_

"No, just great big _scaly_ things with teeth." Alex pulls at his hair with both hands and strides towards the stern, scaling the ladder thing to the higher aft deck with depressing ease. I swear that I'm the only one out of the pair of us who is ageing in any way that results in creaky joints.

_:Thanks for that, Mister Upbeat,_: I say. _:I was trying to be optimistic about the situation.:_

"The rudder's about as much use as their swords were," Alex announces, giving the wheel a desultory spin. "I can't say that I'm surprised. What state's the rigging in?"

I look up at the mast, and the snarl of ropes connected to it. _:Dangling and knotted.:_

"That's...really not useful, Teva."

_:There's sails attached to some of it, too.:_ I turn and catch his eye. _:What?_:

"Again with the not being particularly useful." Alex bends his head and starts doing something to the housing around the wheel mount.

_:I shouldn't have to point this out to you, what with the way you've spent much of the past few decades sitting on my back and everything, but I'm a _Companion_, Alex. Horse-shaped, designed to run about on the ground: there's not exactly been any prior indication that I should have spent my youth developing a profound knowledge of messing around in boats. What are you doing?_:

I wander gamely across the moving deck in order to stare at Alex in a more up-close and personal fashion. He appears to have inserted most of his upper body into the wooden housing of the wheel mount.

"Trying to fix the rudder, what does it look like?" His words are muffled.

_:Well, actually, it looks like you're getting intimate with the rear end of a boat that has the Kingdom's most inappropriate figurehead. Sam's going to be really jealous when I tell him.:_ I stick my head through the bars of the rail that runs around the edge of the aft deck, rest my chin on the raised deck and sneeze over Alex's boots.

"Teva!" Alex appears rapidly. He has a head full of something black and sticky and probably fungal in nature. "Quite apart from you using 'when' instead of 'if', which I suppose I should be used to by now, and being the world's worst tattle tale, was there really any need to sneeze up my legs?"

_:On your boots. You have fungus in your hair, don't think you're cuddling up to _me_ any time soon.:_

Alex swipes at his hair with one hand and inspects the result. "It's grease," he says before, lightning quick, planting his outstretched hand on my forehead.

_:Hey!:_

"Nice hand print." With that observation, Alex disappears back into the housing.

_:I loathe and despise you.:_

"Why don't you go pull on the rigging, see if you can get those sails set in a slightly more sensible fashion?"

I leave off my cross-eyed attempts to see my own face and back up a few steps. _:I wouldn't know a correctly configured sail from a soggy handkerchief.:_

Alex reappears briefly and gestures at the sails. "Then you're in luck, at the moment they resemble soggy handkerchiefs. There is no actual way for you to make them worse."

I cock my head and give my Chosen an appraising look. _:Since when did you become Captain Competence?_:

"Since the advent of you resulted in me spending about a year having the contents of the Palace library shoved in my head, followed by several decades of learning how to Figure It Out."

_:Huh.:_

"And spending too much time with Libbi." Alex's shoulders rise in a lopsided shrug.

_:Too much time in the pub with Libbi. That woman could drink an entire guard detachment under the table,_: I observe. _:I can recall at least fifteen hangovers-by-proxy that you've gifted me with after 'going out for a quiet drink' with that woman.:_

"Don't give me 'that woman', Teva," Alex says. "You've told me on several occasions that you actually _like_ her."

I sniff. _:Libbi and boats,_: I prompt.

"Libbi's family are all Masters of one sort or another; her uncle's a Shipwright, and Libbi has an unholy fascination with anything that involves cogs. She lent me several books at Midwinter."

_:Hm. Well, you'd better stop lolly-gagging around and get back to work then.:_ I jerk my head in the direction of the bow and the now very distant shore. _:That land's not getting any closer and I doubt that any of those muffins are going to be able to drive that other boat out here to rescue us.:_

"Sail and _ship_." Alex retreats back into the housing. "And, given that the other ship's hull was holed below the waterline, I'm guessing not, no."

I don't deign to respond to that and instead wander (somewhat unsteadily) over towards some likely looking bits of rope near the front of the boat. Said ropes are attached to hooks on the bow rail of the boat by some fantastically complicated looking knots, and head up towards the cross beam of the front mast and sail. The sail in question is half-furled and not doing much at all in the way of catching the brisk wind which is blowing sort of in the direction of the shore.

_:Hrmph.:_ I grab hold of a likely looking bit of rope with my teeth and give it an experimental tug. The sail flaps and unfolds a small amount. _:Well, this doesn't seem to be too complicated.:_

"I'm glad you think so," Alex's muffled voice drifts towards me.

_:Walk in a meadow,_: I say confidently, continuing to pull on the rope. Some wooden bits rattle around, and some other ropes move around over pulleys in a squeaky and complicated looking fashion. _:Avast, me hearties.:_

"You did _not_ just say that."

_:Spoilsport.:_

The sail continues to unfurl and bell out in the wind. And unfurl some more. And some more.

And some _more._

The rope in my mouth suddenly goes slack, the wooden bits rattle in a distinctly final fashion, and the sail itself detaches completely from the mast and flies up into the sky, trailing ropes behind it.

_:Um.:_

"'Um' is not a good sound." A beat whilst I continue to stare after the departing sail. "Teva, why is that sail doing an impression of a kite instead of being attached to the mast?"

I half turn my head, spit out the rope and attempt to look innocent. _:I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that I might incriminate myself.:_

"Uh huh." The look Alex gives me is old enough to have predated the Founding.

_:It could have happened at any time. All these ropes tangled up? It's just trouble looking for a place to happen if you ask me.:_

"No, Teva, _you're_ trouble looking for a place to happen. Just... don't go near any of the rest of the rigging unless I'm there too, okay? Next thing we know you'll have hoisted yourself up instead of the colours, or hanged yourself from the crow's nest by your tail."

_:If you don't watch it, I'm going to come over there and push you over the side.:_

"Overboard."

_:I hate you.:_

Alex laughs and spreads his arms wide. "You might have a slight problem getting onto the aft-deck," he points out. "It's quite high up and the ladders aren't exactly designed for horses."

_:I loathe and despise you in the most complete way possible.:_ I lower my head and glare at Alex, ignoring the way that my forelock flops over my eyes. _:And I would have no problem with _jumping_ up there—_: a particularly choppy bit of water causes the boat to judder in an alarming fashion, and I'm forced to widen my stance to avoid falling over :_—if I wanted to. Which I don't, so you can just finish off mending the steering and count your lucky stars.:_

Alex rolls his eyes and fists his hands on his hips. For someone with two less legs than me, he seems to be doing a lot better at this whole 'balancing on a moving surface' malarkey. "The rudder and wheel are fixed."

_:Well, then, why are you just standing there? It's not like we're on a boating holiday. The Gods only know what that bunch of nit wits is getting up to back at that village.:_ I wobble forwards two steps and give Alex an accusative look. _:You should be back there, Heralding at them. Not loafing around on the water.:_

He mouths the word 'Heralding' in a disbelieving fashion before shaking his head. "Far be it from me to disagree with a wise and all-knowing Companion," he says. His boots echo on the wooden deck as he joins me on the main deck.

_:You'd better believe it,_: I mutter distractedly. Most of my attention is focused on the horizon on the left side of the boat. Or, rather more accurately, the big black clouds that are gathering on said horizon and streaming our way. The gusty wind suddenly smells even more damp than before.

"Oh, that's just _marvellous_." Alex has followed my line of sight and is now burying his head against my shoulder.

_:Ow! Stop abusing me.:_ I side-shuffle and give him an offended look.

"We have the worst luck in the world."

I stamp one hoof, intending to make a loud and authoritative sound. What I get is a large and gaping hole as one of the deck planks abruptly breaks and drops away into the bowels of the boat.

_:Argh!_: I skitter backwards and flatten my ears. _:I hate all boats!_:

"The _worst_ luck. No, Teva—stop dancing around, you'll only end up sinking us."

_:I can't see how that'd make much difference,_: I say rebelliously, although I do stop bouncing around like I've just encountered fungus. Alex finally seems to notice the fact that I'm still very damp and decorated with silt and water weed and sighs in what I take to be agreement.

"Right," Alex says after a moment, skirting around the edge of the oblong hole I've created in the deck. "If we reset the rigging, we should be able to quarter the wind and make it back to shore before too much of the rain dumps on us."

I stare at him. _:I understood 'shore' and 'rain', but the rest of that was just words piled together.:_

"From your point of view, so is much of the world." Alex pats me absently on the nose as he strides past me and begins doing extremely complicated looking things to one of the tangles of rope that I've yet to get near. I sidle up behind him and peer suspiciously at what seems like one big knot over his shoulder. "Hold this for a moment, will you?"

Reluctantly, I accept the end of the rope he's waving under my nose.

"No, more tension." Alex bumps me under the chin and I comply, snorting slightly.

_:Don't blame me when this goes horribly wrong.:_

"Nothing's going to go wrong," Alex assures me, tugging the rope from my mouth and threading it around another bit of rope and under a metal hook. "There, all done."

I roll my eyes back and stare at the two remaining sails, which look exactly the same as they did before. Which is to say: mostly furled and doing nothing in the way of being useful.

_:They look exactly the same. And anyway, who was it who was just bemoaning having the worst luck in all the world?_:

"Trifling details," Alex says. "We'll be fine; the sails look the same because I have to actually reset more than _one _bit of rigging. Come on."

_:Picky, picky.:_ Nevertheless, I trail after my Chosen as he moves onto the next tangle of rope.

Nine such instances of overly complicated knot tying later, and I'm beginning to have serious worries about the state of my teeth. _:Alexander, at this rate I'm going to be spitting out bits of hemp for the next five weeks.:_

"It's a kind of plant, so I don't see what you're objecting to. Pull that over this way." Alex pokes me in the nose with a bit of rope until I grab it off him. He then picks up another rope and starts walking back towards the stern of the boat.

As we reach the aft deck the ropes gain more tension until, with a clatter and boom, the two remaining sails fill with wind and the boat heels over to the left. I scrabble to keep my balance and voice a string of expletives that I'm mainly learned from Samyel over the years.

Alex whoops loudly and scrabbles up the ladder to grab hold of the wheel. "Keep hold of that rope and pull when I tell you!"

I pause in the act of spitting out the rope and glare up at him. _:What kind of crack pot scheme is this?_:

"It's called resetting the rigging so that we can sail to the shore instead of just the way that the wind is blowing. I can control the rudder, and with the ropes we're holding, we can move the sails to catch the wind without having to run all over the ship pretending to be an entire complement of crew." Alex quirks one side of his mouth up. "Of course, Libbi would take one look at this rigmarole and have palpitations."

_:Next time we'll bring her along in one of the saddlebags.:_ I brace myself in an attempt to not go slithering over the deck towards the hole as the rope in my teeth snaps taut.

"Let it go a bit, Teva," Alex instructs, pulling hard on his own rope with one hand and grips the wheel with the other. The boat rolls into a wave and slides down the far side of it. Over the pitching bow, I think the shore looks a bit bigger.

_:You know, I'm coming around to the idea of driving a boat around.:_ The first few drops of cold rain spatter against my flanks and I twitch. _:Wait, I changed my mind.:_

"Because you are the most indecisive creature in Valdemar."

I twist my head around far enough to glare at Alexander as the few drops of rain turn into a whole lot more. _:I am not even going to dignify that with a response.:_

"Except for that one?" Alex scrunches up his face and rubs it on one hunched shoulder, trying to clear the rain from his eyes.

_:You know what? I really, really—_:

"Hate, loathe and despise me? You've mentioned it a few times," Alex sniggers. "Make yourself useful, pull on that rope."

_:Yes, sir.:_

"Don't give me that."

_:No, sir.:_

I can feel the incredulous look that Alex is giving me burning into the back of my neck. "Do you have a concussion that you're not telling me about?"

I tug gamely on the rope some more, impressed that it merely makes the sail I'm in (nominal) charge of change angle, rather than vanish off into the stormy sky. _:No, sir.:_

"Teva!" I give into the urge to cackle and Alex groans loudly. "You know, the negative feelings are entirely mutual."

_:I wouldn't have it any other way.:_

"I'm sure."

The boat lurches to the left and then to the right, necessitating some complicated sounding wheel movements and much rope tugging on Alex's part. _:Well, the part where we're stranded on Lake Evendim in a rain storm, that I could do without.:_

"You and me both. I'm actually looking forwards to being assigned to Haven." Alex sounds vaguely astonished. "If you'd told me that when I was younger, I'd have laughed at you."

_:I did,_: I point out. _:And you did exactly that.:_

"Loosen off your rope. I did?" Alex sounds dubious.

_:You did,_: I insist. _:Then a wasps' nest fell on your head and we had to hide in a pond for the better part of three marks.:_

I can feel Alex's blush as a fizz under my own skin. "I'd forgotten about that."

_:I hadn't.:_ Then I add, relentlessly, _:There are lots of things that I've never forgotten you doing. A lot of them are highly embarrassing.:_

"I'll bet. Remind me to be nicer to you when we get back to Haven."

I absolutely don't project an aura of smugness. _:Still,_: I feel the need to point out. _:We could not be seeing Haven for _ages._ We could be stranded out here for _years_ or something.:_

"I'll go for 'or something,' thanks." A clatter of boots and Alex is suddenly standing next to me.

_:What are you talking about?_: I squint at him through the rain, then widen my eyes in alarm. _:And why aren't you driving the boat?_:

"Because we're about to run aground," Alex says.

This is, of course, the moment that the boat judders to an abrupt halt, flinging both of us forwards and nearly down my hole in the deck.

_:A little warning would have been nice!:_ I wheel around and glare at my Chosen.

He rolls his eyes at me. "I told you we were about to run aground; we ran aground. It's not like I told you _after_ it happened."

I gape at him as he waltzes past me and to the bow, where he busies himself with securing a rope ladder to the rail.

_:That is the most asinine thing I have ever heard,_: I bluster. _:And how, in the name of Astera's pet fish, am I supposed to climb down _that_ second rate piece of fish net?_:

"Huh." Alex fists his hands on his hips and gives me a considering look. "I guess you're going to have to jump over the side near the back, where the water's deep." He waves his arms at me when I glare at him. "I'm sorry; it's not like there's a gangplank, or even a harbour to bridge to."

_:Fine, fine,_: I grouse, sidling over to the rail to give the muddy looking water lapping against the side of the boat a dubious look. _:You play around with your netting and leave the perilous stuff to me.:_

"Oh, don't be like that."

I completely ignore Alex in favour of backing up a few steps and then launching myself bodily into the air and over the rail. _:Companion overboard!:_

I think that I actually momentarily change the local flow of currents with the size of splash I make as I impact the water.

I surface to the tune of Alex shouting my name and making his own splash a short distance away from me.

"You nearly gave me a heart attack!" he accuses as he paddles up to me. I tread water and give him a suspicious look. "I was expecting a little more in the way of planning and checking for—I don't know—_rocks_."

_:Piffle.:_ I sneeze water out my nose loudly and start for the shore. As I trundle up onto the shore I notice that I've somehow gained approximately an extra half-hundredweight of water weed about my person.

"You look like an ambulatory garden." Alex pokes me in the shoulder with an elbow as he sloshes past me, making some effort to wring silty water out of his Whites.

_:When we get back to the village, I'm going to give quite a few people no _end_ of ambulatory garden.:_

"You and me both."

_:Since this is our last visit and we should make a lasting impression, I vote that we scare them off water so much that they decide to move to the centre of the Dhorisha Plains.:_ I give Alex an oblique look. _:Would you stop fussing around with your clothes and get up on my back already?_:

"Okay, okay," Alex surrenders, swinging himself up onto my bare back with far less effort than a person of his age should have to make. "And with this rain, they'll never see us coming until it's too late."

_:Ha!_: I bounce into a trot, then a leisurely canter. Despite the miserable weather and the _boat_, I foresee the next few marks being very entertaining, particularly since Alex and I can devote the trip back to coming up with wild ideas and over-the-top threats.

After today, I'm betting we're not going to be the _only_ ones who are glad we're retiring. Which is—of course—entirely how it should be.

_:Avast, scurvy dogs!_:

"Teva, you did _not_ just say that."


End file.
